


a light in seas of shadows

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Injury Recovery, M/M, POV Poe Dameron, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: His still-healing skin was thin enough that Poe could see the shape of the ribs that jutted out, like brittle white knives beneath the flesh.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Hoelidays Gift Exchange 2021





	a light in seas of shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/gifts).



Poe's gaze followed the neat thin line at the centre of Hux's chest, illuminated by the warm glow of the pulmonodes, and spanning the length of his ribcage. His still-healing skin was thin enough that Poe could see the shape of the ribs that jutted out, like brittle white knives beneath the flesh. 

He picked up a clean towel, and gently patted around the incision, where the medidroid had cleaned it with soap and water before leaving it to air-dry in preparation for a fresh dressing. Hux winced at the contact in a way that Poe had learned had little to do with pain. But it was either that or being undressed from the waist up, and Hux had, albeit reluctantly, made his preferences on that matter clear. 

Poe doubted that the indignity of _natural_ _healing_ was something Hux was used to, but bacta gel was in short supply, and Hux wasn't their top priority. 

"How's your leg?" he asked, scooting over a little to let the medidroid resume their task. 

"Fine." He nodded. Hux was a man of few words, these days. Poe supposed he didn't exactly have what one might call a captive audience for his dramatic (bordering on feverish) speeches in the  _ Tantive IV's  _ medbay. It was already difficult enough having Resistance and ex-First Order personnel sharing a living space, and that was discounting the fact that one of them was  _ Hux.  _ It wasn't ideal, and there'd been more than one incident over the weeks, but Dr. Kalonia had skillfully diffused the situation. Poe could only wish that diplomacy came as easily to him. 

Hux kept to himself, opting to remain in his private room. He wasn't a prisoner here, but neither he nor Poe were naïve enough to believe that he could walk away. Things just weren't that simple - a person didn't need to be caged in order to be trapped. Whenever Poe visited he felt the stifling weight of stale, recycled air fill his lungs, catching on the lump in his throat.

And he could have sworn the room shrunk with every visit.

"Don't you have more  _ urgent _ matters to attend to?" Poe half chuckled, half coughed. Damn air.

"I'm not sure whether I'm touched by your concern, or insulted by the assumption that I'm shirking my duties." Most likely, Hux was being nosy, but Poe didn't particularly mind humoring him. He preferred the rare occasions when Hux was in a more talkative mood, and there was something freeing about speaking to someone who didn't take orders from him, even in this self-made prison of a room. 

"Definitely the latter," Hux sniffed, inspecting the fresh dressing and looking distinctly unimpressed with the medidroid's handiwork. The Order's medical droids, he'd told Poe at least three times, had been far more technologically advanced. Poe graciously refrained from pointing out that the finest medical treatments and facilities  _ were _ located on Hosnian Prime. 

"Ah, I see. Should have guessed, shouldn't I?" He pointed to Hux's chest, the pulmonodes' light still shining through the dressing. He suppressed his curiosity and the impulse to reach out and trace the warm outlines of the bright cybernetic parts, instead handing Hux his ill-fitting shirt. "You don't have a heart."

"Very amusing, Dameron." He buttoned up his shirt slowly and carefully. "How long did it take you to come up with that one?" 

"Not long. We don't all have as much time on our hands as you, Hugs." Poe decided not to laugh at the way he wrinkled his nose, for fear he might start coughing again. "I wasn't really sure how to say this, so I'll just be straight with you. I..." He fumbled, as he did every time he tried to bring up the subject of his conflicted yet genuine gratitude to Hux.

"Spit it out, Dameron." 

"I appreciate the risk you took in-"

"Oh,  _ spare _ me. You know as well as anyone that it wasn't out of the goodness of my heart." Hux rested his bony fingers on his chest, glowing only faintly through his shirt, approximately where the organ should have been. Apparently he'd retained some of his flair for the dramatic after all.

"Yeah, surprisingly enough, I  _ have _ spoken with Finn." Hux bristled at the mention of Poe's co-general - so that was still a sore spot for him. He had a lot of those. "He wasn't convinced it was the whole story, and I'm inclined to agree." 

"You can think what you like." Hux shrugged, and not very convincingly, as if his shoulders simply weren't built for it. "I'm not especially interested in challenging your views, however idiotic they might be."

"Here I was, thinking we might have a real heart-to-heart." Hux groaned, but Poe noticed the corner of his mouth twitch as he fought the urge to smile. Had he blinked a moment earlier, he'd have missed it. 

"The First Order is finished. I told you everything I knew. You must realise there's nothing more I can offer you." That was far from the truth, though only if one was willing to consider that Hux might not be entirely opposed to contributing to the Resistance's efforts. He had value (to the Resistance, to Poe  _ himself)  _ beyond the First Order secrets he'd been entrusted with. He just needed someone to help brush the scales from his eyes, so that he could see it, too.

"We could always use engineers."

"I'm hardly in a fit state to be sent to a labour camp, in case you hadn't noticed." It was Poe's turn to wince as he recalled the hollowed-out souls that had been liberated from the First Order prison on Corellia. They were healing, slowly, but they'd need a lot more than bacta and therapy droids. More than the Resistance, or any newly forming government, was able to give, but Poe would damn well do his best for each and every one of them. 

He swallowed before responding, reminding himself that Hux had already been feeding them information by then. It didn't make things right, but it helped. 

"It wouldn't be mandatory. Are you telling me you're not itching to tell us all the things we're doing wrong? How  _ outdated _ our tech is?"

"I can already do that from here."

"Exactly my point. I'm not talking about manual labour, unless you  _ want  _ to get more hands on." Hux scowled, but the fact that he was listening at all was something. Maybe he'd at least think about putting his mechanical expertise to good use instead of wasting away in this room. That was no help to anyone, and least of all the Resistance. In combination with Rose and Rey's skills, even a small fraction of Hux's knowledge on the First Order's hyperspace tracking systems would be quite the boon. 

And, as it happened, Hux had every reason to want to help them, though he didn't know it yet. That's why Poe was here - why he'd been coming here every week since they'd discovered Hux's battered body in the wreckage of  _ Steadfast.  _ Finn had helped him work it out. It had been about Kylo Ren, of course, but it was never  _ just  _ about Kylo Ren. Poe steeled himself before going on, knowing that what he was about to say was dangerously close to a breach of intelligence.

"The dregs of the Sith Fleet are regrouping. We need all the volunteers we can get." There were several things he did not mention, both because he didn't trust Hux, and because he wanted to watch him interpret this information for himself. Any officer worth their salt ought to be capable of reading between the lines, and Hux wasn't just any officer.

"I'll think about it." Hux's face was pinched as if he'd bitten into an especially sour lemon. Poe smiled, and patted him gently on the shoulder. This time, Hux didn't flinch.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said, fully certain that the answer would be the same whether he came back in one hour or twenty-four.

But  _ tomorrow  _ gave him time to prepare.


End file.
